ReDefining
by 12ofHearts
Summary: Dan/Ror in the BDSM-verse. Rorschach buys into stereotypes about love and sex. Dan shows him stereotypes aren't always right. Chapter 12-14 in Beta now! Look forward to new updates.
1. Order of Operations

**Chapter One Title: Order of Operations**

Hi, this is Twelve. This is my first Watchmen fanfic. It's Ror/Dan slash set in a Xanthe-esque BDSMverse. If you're not familiar with it, it's a verse where BDSM is standard practice. Everyone is separated into their station at an early age. This is determined by personality. An Alpha is a completely Dominant person. A Beta is a mostly Dominant person. An Omega is a Submissive person. Some people are Switches, which means they go back and forth. It's rarer in the BDSMverse than it is in our universe. In this verse, homosexuality is neither here nor there.

Another thing. I am picking and choosing which details I want from the Movie and which I want from the GN. Ror has blue eyes and was born in 1950 in this fic. Deal with it.

I don't own Watchmen

The rain poured off the end of the abandoned subway tunnel. The weather had gotten warmer and now the flurry of snow had turned to a chilly drizzle. In the mouth of the tunnel stood a tall man. He didn't lounge against the cold brick walls, but shifted from foot to foot. His broad shoulders were hunched against the cold and anxiety that washed over him. Nite Owl adjusted his cape and watched the rain. The snow that had built up that morning was slush now; it would all be ice before morning, once the cold of night took back over from the warm afternoon.

A shadow detached itself from the darkness a few feet to his left. "Standing out in the open. Not safe." He tried not to jump when Rorschach made himself known, but his partner had probably seen it.

"Let's patrol," Nite Owl said. He looked at the state of his partner's trousers. They were wet almost to the knee. Trudging through this slush was easier for Nite Owl, with his longer stride and higher boots. "You're soaking wet."

"Am fine." Rorschach had a deep, gravelly voice. Sometimes Nite Owl wondered what it sounded like when he was just his normal self. Most of the Watchmen seemed to have a different tone to their voice when they were in their masks. Nite Owl himself had a slower, more authoritative voice when he was in uniform while Dan Dreiberg, his alter-ego, was much more soft-spoken. But then, Dan was a Sub in his daytime life. Nite Owl was an Alpha. Well, a Beta for sure. That was something he had never had to wonder about when it came to his partner: Rorschach was definitely an Alpha. No doubt about it. It was clear from the way he beat punishment into the criminals they fought every night. His alter-ego was surely just as aggressive and dominant.

Patrol went smoothly for the first couple hours. They put down a gang of Cx3's that had been getting too aggressive lately. Nite Owl watched his partner take down a man at least a foot taller than him and then hold him down with one boot pressed against his spine and the man's left arm wrenched up while the little vigilante snarled something into his ear. From across the alley he couldn't hear what Rorschach was saying, but the gang leader's frightened, "No, please, no, I'm sorry!" drifted over to where he was daisy-chaining fallen gang members to a fire-hydrant with zip ties. There was a wet crack when Rorschach smashed the guy's face into the curb. Nite Owl helped him drag the guy over into the heap of gangsters by the light pole.

He saw it first when one of the gangsters' eyes flicked open. He brought his boot up hard into Rorschach's lower back. Nite Owl stared in horror at the bloody blade sticking out of the guy's boot. Before his partner could whirl and punish the guy, Nite Owl's foot had slammed into his jaw, snapping his head back.

"Geeze!" he hissed. The blade was at least two inches long and he'd landed a good, solid hit. "That guy was just playing possum."

Rorschach groaned. His fists were balled in the pockets of his trench. There was a slick of wetness dripping down his back where the coat was sliced open. "You're bleeding pretty bad. Let's get back to HQ and pack that."

Back at the Nest, Nite Owl noticed a definite deliberateness in the other man's steps. When Dan pulled his cowl back and his goggles off, Rorschach looked away, just like every time. He stalked around the chair where Dan had seated himself with the first aid kit. "I can't help if you don't sit down." Rorschach shook his head, making another circuit around the kitchen table.

_'Why doesn't he ever make it easy to help him?' _Dan wondered. He was getting sick of this behavior. 'Go away, Don't leave me.' Granted, Rorschach had never actually asked for help, but why walk all this way and then make it difficult for Dan to do anything? He wouldn't sit down, and once Dan had talked him into that, he wasn't going to want to take his coat off, so Dan could actually LOOK at the wound. Dan ground his teeth.

"Rorschach! Sit DOWN!"

Rorschach's mask shifted in that way that Dan had come to associate with surprise. He pulled a chair out and threw himself into it.

"Take the coat off." Rorschach untied the belt of his coat and shrugged out of one shoulder at a time. Underneath he was wearing that pinstripe three-piece. "That one, too, and the waistcoat." Dan pointed at the suit coat with the suture pliers. Rorschach looked down and pulled off his coat, folding it over the next kitchen chair and then added his waistcoat. His hand smoothed it down, touching the bloody hole in the rear left panel. Faced with further layers, Dan considered ordering him to remove those as well, but instead he just waved at them with the pliers. Rorschach raised his head and looked up at him, eyes burning through the mask. Dan spoke in his measured, Nite Owl voice. "Pull your shirts up so I can have a good look."

There was a hint of hesitation, this time, but he untucked the button down shirt and his undershirt and pulled them up high enough to give Dan access to the wound. As Dan inspected the wound, he noticed the strange quality of the blood. He leaned down for a better look. Rorschach went stiff, then leaned away. "Hold still," Dan growled. He smelled the wound. It was hard to tell past the normal scent coming off Rorschach's skin, but he thought something was unusual.

Some of the other Watchmen, Silk Spectre II in particular, had made comments about the vigilante's odor, but none of them were there every night to see the progression of Rorschach smelling like chicken grease because he'd been knocked against a poorly secured barrel of fryer grease outside a KFC, and then the next week, as that smell faded, they had a case that had them army-crawling through a fish market on the docks, and then, there were the cases that led them through the sewers. It wasn't as though Rorschach could get his uniform dry-cleaned, it was too distinctive. So Dan, of all the others, understood and accepted the odor as a part of the pros and cons of working with the shorter, fiercer, mask. Many more pros than cons.

"Relax, I'm just trying to see if your kidney has been punctured." If possible, Rorschach stiffened even more at this. Dan touched the blood leaking from the wound. There was nothing odd seeming about it. Normal consistency. He smelled it again. "No, I think it's ok. I'm gonna stitch this up..." He stopped himself. He had been about to ask if that was ok, but so far, giving orders had been more effective than asking permission ever had.

Then he realized what he'd done. He'd given Rorschach orders. And the other man had responded. Had...obeyed. Dan ran that through his mind as he began to suture the wound. As he proceeded, it was increasingly difficult to keep a stupid-happy grin from crossing his face. He finished and taped on as small a gauze pad as he thought he could get away with. He brushed his fingers across the edges of the tape, making sure it was secure on all sides.

"Too much touching, Daniel." Rorschach growled. He turned and saw the bemused look on Dan's face. "What?"

Dan's eyes traveled up his partner's body to his ever-shifting mask as the other man pulled his shirts back down and tucked them into his trousers. "Rorschach." A silly, half restrained grin crossed his face. He had decided to present this information in a logical sequence, which his partner, as a detective, would have to accept. _Evidence._ "I told you what to do."

He pulled on his waistcoat, suit jacket and trench. "Are an Alpha, Nite Owl. Give orders to criminals and innocents all the time." He tightened his coat belt and pushed his hands into his pockets.

Dan stood and moved towards the door to the basement. "You did what I told you."

"Was bleeding, allowed treatment, couldn't reach wound." He stared at Dan levelly through the fascinating mask.

"Rorschach...why didn't you ever tell me you're a Sub?"

His partner's head dropped and he took half a step towards the basement, realized Dan had it pretty well covered and turned towards the door to the front hall. Before he could zip through it, Dan lunged forward and grabbed his arm. Rorschach exploded.

"LET GO!" The heel of his right hand slammed into Dan's chest and he twisted his arm, trying to wrench it free. His knee came up and slammed into Dan's thigh, in the weak point just between the protective cup and the Kevlar on the front of his thigh. Rorschach was at least a head shorter than Dan, and his dominant arm was being held in a vice-grip, but he struck out as fast as lightning with his right hand, targeting the joints in Dan's armor, but not in ways that would cause permanent damage. It was clear he was holding back. Dan's hand came up and stopped Rorschach's other hand from the rapid strikes against his unprotected face.

"Answer me!" He pressed his partner back against the wall. "And stop that, right now."

Rorschach jerked to a halt, head down, Dan could feel his pulse fluttering in his wrist, breath coming in slow, controlled drags. He waited for the answer to his question.

"Never tested. Always assumed was an Alpha." The infuriating way he phrased it left the interpretation open as to whether it had been Rorschach who assumed he was an Alpha, or the people around him.

Dan looked down at him and his mind whirled. "Everyone gets tested."

"Not Rorschach."

It clicked, then. In the same way that Nite Owl had never gotten officially tested, because he was an Alter-ego Dan had acquired after he'd entered adulthood, Rorschach had never been taken to a testing center and evaluated as to his personality and station in life. Whoever was under the mask had, but that didn't have a bearing, as Dan well knew.

Rorschach groaned. His voice was tight with strain. "Trusted you, Daniel. Betrayed me."

A stab of unbearable agony shot through Dan's belly. "There is nothing wrong with being a Sub, Rorschach. I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm certainly not going to hurt you..."

"Weak, should be strong."

Did he really believe that? That being a Submissive was weakness? Well, of course Rorschach would think that following orders was...but, then, it wasn't...Anyone who had experience with a good Dom would never...But that was the crux of the issue, wasn't it? "You've never been allowed to be a Sub, have you?" Daniel asked.

Rorschach made an agonized noise and tried to pull away again. "Will never be degraded that way."

Dan literally gaped. He mouthed the word degraded. "A Dom doesn't degrade his Sub. He makes his Sub stronger. He offers training and discipline and..." He had almost said 'love,' but that would be the quickest way to lose his audience. "And partnership. You have never degraded me..."

He jerked like Dan had slapped him. "Am NOT your Alpha, Daniel. Would never." He made another desperate noise.

"Would never, what? Trust me to obey you? We've worked together for years, and you've always been the lead."

"Not the same. Never gave orders. Suggestions. Never put you in..." His voice cracked. "Subspace." He spat the word and Dan's face twisted.

"Have you ever even _been_ in Subspace? How can you damn something you've never experienced?" His face softened. Rorschach had a hard time trusting people. As far as Dan knew, he didn't even have a family at home. He didn't even trust the other Watchmen. He didn't even trust Dan with his identity, even though Dan had shared his years ago. No one knew he was a Sub. A Sub who had never experienced the joy of Subspace. A thrill of horror ran through Dan's body. To be denied that unparalleled level of trust and safety... "Don't you ever want to feel it?"

"Have been in Subspace, Daniel. Betrayed."

Dan realized that Rorschach had used the same word a few moments before, when he'd exposed him as a Sub. Realized that he was even now crossing the line into his partner's carefully cultivated personal space. "I'm going to let you go, but Don't Move." He dropped his wrist and forearm, ready to snatch them again if Rorschach moved. He didn't, just kept his face to the ground.

"Would you trust me? To show you what a Dom is supposed to be like?" The words were out of his mouth before he realized he intended to say them, but after a moment's thought, he realized that was what he had wanted to ask since he realized what his friend's station was.

The floor dropped out from under him when he realized Rorschach hadn't snarled a denial, or thrown a punch at him, or bolted. The blots on his mask were flying, the same way they did when he was working on a particularly tricky connection between two clues.

"Not gay, Daniel."

"You know better than that. It's not about sex." He waited a moment, then realized Rorschach needed convincing, one way or another. "I would never hurt you. You can be what you are without having to worry about that. You've said before that you trust me. I understand if you aren't willing to give me this level of trust."

He still wasn't saying anything. Dan realized he was holding his breath. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to breathe. Not until Rorschach nodded. Just the tiniest inclination of his head.


	2. Acceptance

**Chapter Two Title: Acceptance**

"Ok. Great. Tell you what; you've lost a lot of blood. Let's get some food in you before we do this. Give me some time to come up with a game plan, and time for you to change your mind." He was about to turn away, when he thought of something. "Rorschach, if you do decide to change your mind, that's ok. You have to take care of yourself first, ok? I always want to respect your boundaries. I know you're strong enough to stand up for them." Respecting his boundaries sounded a little hollow, in view of the fact that he had crossed the first line Rorschach had ever drawn in their relationship, that of not touching him. That gave Dan an idea of the first thing he wanted to do.

He turned away and started to fix macaroni and cheese from a box. Behind him, Rorschach settled uncertainly into his usual chair and pulled out his journal. He was scribbling away furiously by the time Dan mixed milk and cheese sauce with the noodles and turned around. It amused him. His partner often used the journal to sort through his impressions and hunches about a case. Dan wouldn't have expected him to make a decision this momentous without working logistics out on paper.

He handed him a bowl of steaming macaroni and cheese and sat down with a smaller one of his own. Recently, the other man had gotten freer about rolling up his mask to eat in front of Dan. At first it had been drawn up just long enough to pop in a sugar cube, his hand obscuring any view of the lower half of his face, but lately he had been more lax, leaving it up long enough to finish an entire can of beans. Now he sat staring at the bowl for a long time before slowly pulling his mask up to the bridge of his nose. It occurred to Dan that he was being shy. To establish a sense of normalcy, he discussed his impressions of the status of weapons deals in the area. Rorschach hunched his shoulders over his food and shoveled it into his mouth. That, at least, was normal.

When they were both finished, Dan put the bowls in the sink and ran water into them, not bothering to wash them. He was too keyed up by the prospect of what was about to happen. It was a very good sign that the other man hadn't abandoned the food and disappeared out the door. His mask was rolled back down into position, though.

They stood facing each other. "May as well get the preliminaries out of the way. Do you have a safe-word you prefer?" Rorschach's head dropped and he shook his head. "We'll just use the standards, then, Yellow for slow down, Red for stop." Dan stepped forward. He raised his hand slowly. Rorschach's attention snapped to it.

"I'm not going to touch you. Hold still." He moved closer until his partner flinched away. "It's ok. I'm not going to touch you." He brought his hand up to within two inches of Rorschach's mask. He moved it down along his shoulders, never getting any closer. He paid particular attention to which areas caused the most tension in the vigilante's body.

"You're doing a good job. Thank you for trusting me," he said, as he moved his hand past the side of his hip and saw the other bridle. He moved around behind him, holding his hand behind the back of his neck before moving back around in front of him. "Hold out your hands."

Rorschach tilted his head, but did as he was told. His hands were covered to the wrists in purple gloves and his arms covered by two coats and a shirt. None of his skin was showing.

"Did I touch you?"

"Hurm, no."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No."

"Do you trust me?"

The answer to this question took a little longer. "Yes."

"I'm going to touch your hand. I'm not going to hurt you."

Rorschach's stance shifted a little bit.

Dan touched the tip of his index finger to Rorschach's. He drew it slowly up the palm. "You can take this," he told him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Would rather be hurt."

The observation shocked Daniel a little. He looked up from what he was doing, but Rorschach was still looking at the floor. "I know. But this is not a fight. I'm not trying to provoke you." He took Rorschach's hand, wrapping his hand around it, feeling the muscles rippling under the surface of the skin and glove. "Just like shaking hands."

Rorschach nodded minutely.

Dan gave the hand a squeeze and let go, moving on to the other hand and repeating the process. "I know you don't like being touched, but if you're going to trust me, you're going to have to be able to tolerate basic human contact."

"Trust you, Daniel. Know you won't hurt me."

Something in his voice made Dan ask, "Are you afraid?"

He shifted again. "Yes."

Dan considered that. He reached his hand up to Rorschach's neck. "I'm going to touch your throat. You're not going to move or resist, because this is what I want. Because you want to give me what I want, don't you?"

The black spots on Rorschach's mask crowded over his cheeks and he nodded.

Dan stretched his hand across his partner's throat. He could feel tension and muscles and a jumping Adam's apple and his partner's hammering pulse. Then, Rorschach tilted his head back, baring himself. A breath shuddered out of him and Dan felt the pulse under his fingertips, still beating firmly, but much more slowly. _'Did he just drop into Subspace? Should I ask?'_

"Yes..." Rorschach breathed.

"I want you to be strong for me. You're going to take it for me, aren't you?" Dan was certain, now. His partner was floating in that blissful peace that came with giving your trust to someone else completely. The willingness to take what comes.

"Yess..."

Dan squeezed lightly. Not enough to restrict airflow, just enough to let the other know that he was in control. He exerted downward pressure and Rorschach slowly dropped to his knees.

"Mmmf..."

"Tell me how it feels to be at my mercy. Tell me how it feels to give your control to me."

Rorschach's inkblots had smoothed out into a slow, lazy swirl. "Feels good. Trust you, Daniel. Love you."

They both realized what he'd said at the same instant.

The moment telescoped. It seemed like it took all day for Rorschach to roll off his knees and slam backwards into the fridge. He stumbled and Dan, who'd jerked his hand back as if he'd been burned, lunged for him before he could recover and escape. He grabbed the smaller man's shoulders. "STOP!"

Rorschach sent up a howl like a wounded animal.

Dan pinned him against the fridge. "STOP!" he yelled again. "It's ok. It's ok. You didn't do anything wrong. It's ok. Subspace takes some people like that. Listen to me!"

His partner was keening.

Dan jerked him forward and slammed him back against the fridge, just hard enough to knock down half the magnets and force his partner to take a deep breath. "RORSCHACH!" The other man's fingers were scrabbling against his arms, his head whipping back and forth. It took another slam against the fridge and several more deep breaths before he settled.

"Shouldn't have said that, is bad, is vile. Must hate me now."

"I will _never_ hold your feelings against you. Never hate you for telling me the truth."

"Hit me, hate me, purge me."

"No," Dan breathed. "No," he repeated more firmly. He wanted to draw Rorschach closer and run his fingers through his hair and comfort him. That wouldn't work with this man. What would?

"No," he said again to buy time while he thought. The only thing he could think of that made Rorschach comfortable was fighting crime. He certainly wasn't going to attack him after reassuring him he wouldn't hurt him. Instead he put his hand back up to his throat.

"Hold still. There is nothing bad about what has happened here. You feel the way you feel. We will work with that. I do _not_ hate you. I...you are my best friend. I care about you, so much. I want to protect you. I want to be your partner. I want to fight by your side."

And he realized something that had been trying to express itself to his mind for months.

"I love you, too. It's ok. But you are _not_ going to be allowed to continue behaving like this. You are going to have to be stronger than this. That includes accepting and dealing with these feelings. I know you are strong enough to take anything. Aren't you?" He emphasized this with a little squeeze.

Rorschach's shoulders rolled back and he straightened.

"Am strong," he growled.

"I trust you to take this. Can I trust you?"

"Can trust me."

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes."

"That's ok. I'm going to protect you. And you are going to protect me. We're a team. You are going to obey me."

This time the growl was just a hoarse whisper. "Yes."

Daniel stroked his thumb up and down Rorschach's throat. "So strong, so powerful, give me your control," he whispered.

From behind the mask, the whisper came again.

"Yes."


	3. Admission

**Chapter Three Title: Admission**

It was several weeks before Rorschach appeared at the Nest again. He appeared at Daniel's side as he worked on the new grappling gun that he'd designed. Daniel managed not to jump out of his skin when he realized the other man was standing there. He finished screwing the CO2 cartridge casing in place, then turned and looked up at the smaller man looming over him.

"I'm ready for patrol." He stood up and pulled his cowl over his head, situating his goggles in place. In the enhanced clarity of his goggles, he saw that his partner was agitated.

"What's up, buddy?" Best to play things cool.

"When being sutured."

"What?"

"Asked when in Subspace before. Every time."

At this point in their partnership, Dan was pretty quick at deciphering cryptic comments, but this one was fairly obvious. "Every time I've sutured you...ever?"

He looked at the ground and nodded.

"Well that explains why you always refused painkillers."

"Pharmaceutical companies interested in profit, not consumer satisfaction or safety," Rorschach told him scornfully.

At least he was back to normal. Even if the topic of discussion was...unprecedented.

"Have decided will allow Submission again. _Not _on patrol. Here."

Dan's stomach jumped into his throat. He was going to allow it again. And he expected Dan to be able to patrol with that thought hanging over him all night? He gathered his control and nodded. "I will respect your request."

Fortune was on Dan's side, and the weather was bad, which meant most of the crime was going on indoors. Rorschach grumbled, but so much less than normal that Dan suspected he was just as apprehensive about what was going to happen when they got back to the Nest.

Dan fed them both again, and he was concerned it was a stalling tactic. He made passive conversation, to which Rorschach responded even less than he had on patrol.

"There's something I have to tell you. I am not going to put up with you going so far outside your comfort zone that you panic."

"Did not panic," Rorschach blurted.

"It's not good for you," Dan continued without pause. "It's not good for either of us. If you start getting overwhelmed, you need to use one of the safe-words. I know you want to jump in headfirst and to hell with the consequences, but I am not going to allow you to do that. We're going to get to that level, don't worry. But we need to start slower. This is unfamiliar ground for both of us. I am _telling_ you to use the safe-words. I can't protect you from problems I don't know about. Alright, buddy?"

The other thought about it quietly for a moment, then nodded decisively.

Dan started out with the Not-Touching again, until his partner stopped flinching away from his hands. Then he gripped his hands, his forearms and biceps, slowly slipped his hand around the other's throat. "Is this too much?"

"Am fine."

This time, it took a little longer for Rorschach to get into subspace. When Dan felt the tension drain out of him, he said something he had been thinking over the entire patrol.

"Tell me what you want."

"Want to please Master." Every muscle in Dan's body tingled when he heard those words come out of Rorschach's mouth.

"I know it must have taken a lot for you to give me that, but I don't want it, not yet. I'm not your Master, and I asked what you want. Don't give me some bullshit answer."

Rorschach groaned. He was on his knees by now, and he shuffled them together and his fingertips dug into his thighs. "Can't tell, will hate me. Please, no."

"I won't hate you. I might not give you what you want, but I won't hate you."

His partner turned his face away and the whisper was so quiet, Dan was about to command him to repeat it, when it registered. No, he wouldn't be making him repeat that. It must have been agony to drag the words out the first time. He kept his grip on Rorschach's throat even. He settled down on his knees to be even with the man who was tearing his own heart out to share it with Dan. He touched his finger to Rorschach's cheek, turning his face forward again. He released his hold on the other man's throat and slid his fingers to the lower edge.

His partner's hands were grabbing his thumbs then, pressing them the wrong way. "Rorschach. Let go. If you are having a problem, use the safe-words." The hands released slowly.

"Yellow." His hands settled back on his thighs.

"Alright. I'm going to slow down. I'm going to touch you again. I am not going to take your mask off." He touched the lower edge of the mask again, and Rorschach made a visible effort to restrain himself. He trailed a finger up his neck, over his chin, and touched his mouth through the mask. A trace of black trailed after his finger, but the rest of the blots were fibrillating across his face. Dan leaned forward until he was barely an inch away from the other man's face.

"A kiss." He moved his finger from Rorschach's lips and kissed them.

It was strange to feel the fabric between his lips and the other man's, and for a moment Rorschach tensed and Dan felt a flutter of fear. But his partner relaxed and leaned minutely into the kiss.

Then his hands were off his thighs again. Dan tensed, thinking he'd pushed too far. But Rorschach rolled his mask up to the bridge of his nose and dove forwards, stopping a mere inch from Dan's face. "Please. Daniel, please," he murmured.

Dan took a deep breath and pressed his hand against Rorschach's chest. "Calm down." He could see the lower half of Rorschach's face draw tight. "You've been doing really well. You deserve a reward. But it's going to be on my terms."

"Hurm, yes."

"Are you still in Subspace?"

"Yes, M...Daniel."

"We're going to try something new. Stay there." He stood and went to a kitchen drawer. From within, he withdrew a bandana and a zip-tie. "Put your hands behind your back."

Rorschach's mouth moved. He didn't quite frown, but he wasn't madly grinning, either. He looked apprehensive. It was interesting, watching his face, learning to interpret it without the benefit of the mask. He crossed his wrists behind his back and dropped his chin to his chest, taking a deep breath.

Dan knelt behind him, tying the bandana around his wrists tightly and then securing it with the zip-tie. "Criminals tend to come away with their wrists cut raw from these zip-ties, and I don't want that happening to you. Are you ok?" He realized this was a ridiculous question and asked the more important one. "Can you get loose?"

He shifted his arms around a little. Dan liked to think he had enough experience with restraining people that this would be more than a farce. "Could get out of the bandana, easily, can't break the zip-tie. Am ok. Good to know the scum aren't just humoring us."

"I suppose it is." Dan moved back in front of the now bound Rorschach. "I like seeing you tied." He brushed a finger up his partner's breastbone. "Someday maybe I'll hogtie you and see how long it takes you to escape."

Rorschach growled. Dan put his face dangerously close to his mouth, and whispered into his ear, "How does it feel being so vulnerable to me?" He flicked his tongue against his jugular, then swooped his head around the other side and licked the corresponding place on the other side.

"Feels good. Still love you."

"Kiss me."

His lips were thin and cracked in a couple places, he was a mediocre kisser at best, but Dan was lost in the feeling immediately. He opened his mouth a little and breathed hotly against Rorschach's lips. He flicked his tongue against his partner's lips. Rorschach emitted a little sound that in anyone else would sound nervous. His mouth opened ever so slowly. Dan dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, drawing more of those deep, ragged sounds out of him.

He said something Dan couldn't understand, so he pulled away a little. "Come again?"

"I want you to be my Master. I have for a long time."

Dan knew he had to collect his thoughts quickly, before this offer was retracted. "Do you know what that entails?" was what fell out of his mouth.

"Am aware of how the world works, Daniel. Would..." He was intently staring at the ground again. "Would give Submission. In." He took a breath. "Any way you ask. Would give you self. Body. Scared, but trust you, want this."

He could feel the Universe spinning around him. It was frightening. "Do you want me to collar you?"

"Collar is lifelong commitment. Understand if don't want that. If just want temporary relationship. Love you, will give what you want."

"Do you _want_ me to collar you?"

He nodded quickly, then looked away.

This was all happening too fast. Of _course_ he wanted to have Rorschach be a fulltime part of his life. But, he didn't even know the name of the man's alter-ego. He didn't know the first thing about his other life.

"What about your...daytime life? I don't even know who you are. Will you move in, here? We'll have to get one of those collars with a break link, because it would be incredibly dangerous for you to fight crime with a chain around your neck. Would you even wear it out on patrol? Of course, I guess Hooded Justice wore that noose and no one used that to strangle him. I've never had a Sub before. What if I mess up?"

Rorschach's mouth was hanging open. "Daniel. Have thought of all this already. Will introduce you to disguise. Will continue as we are as Nite Owl and Rorschach. Daytime identities will develop relationship more slowly. Will be embarrassed if any scum gets close enough to throttle with collar. They will be _very_ sorry if they try it, but, yes, will have weak spot. Would wear collar always. No, have never had a Sub before, but have been a Sub, know how to Dom. Trust you, love you. Have never been a Sub before, will help you learn to Dom. Will forgive any faults. Could have more than one collar, for crime fighting and for disguise." It was the most Dan had ever heard from his partner in one sitting.

He leaned forward and touched his Sub's jaw line, kissed him deeply. "I would be honored to hold your leash. Would you allow me to collar you, Rorschach?"

"Would be honored, Daniel. Master."


	4. Day in the Park

**Chapter Four Title: Day in the Park**

I almost always hate the way this is done in fanfics. So I'm probably going to annoy about 50% of my readers with this chapter. Keep reading, anyway.

Daniel walked out of the boutique. He had run his hand over almost every collar in the place, trying to make a decision. He'd kept in mind Rorschach's comment about two different collars. Since he didn't know anything about the daytime alter-ego, he hadn't bought a collar for him. But the white leather had grabbed his attention when he'd first walked in and hadn't let it go. It was thick and sturdy, but would ride low on his partner's neck, beneath the ivory scarf. Come to think of it, no one had ever used that to throttle him. So it ought to be ok if he wore a collar beneath it.

He tightened his grip around the bag the collar rested in. He couldn't help but wish more people would see it. He imagined the looks on the faces of the other Watchmen when Rorschach, terror of the underworld, walked into a meeting wearing Nite Owl's collar.

Silk Spectre II was a Sub and collared by Dr Manhattan. Both the Comedian and Ozymandias were Doms, and there had always been jokes about Nite Owl being a Beta. No one had ever dared suggest Rorschach was anything less than an Alpha.

Well. It wasn't any of their business what he and his partner did in the privacy of the Nest anyway.

But he was still nervous about the status of his relationship with Rorschach's alter-ego. Rorschach didn't even refer to them as the same person. How differently did he act during the day? Nite Owl was just Daniel Dreiberg in uniform, with a slightly different voice, acting out on his latent Dom behaviors.

That didn't seem to be the case with Rorschach. He still hadn't seen further under the mask than what showed while eating, and still didn't know what sort of name or profession he had while he wasn't being a vigilante. Did he manage to hold down a day job? Hollis had, and still managed to be the first Nite Owl. Dan was glad it wasn't required of him. Most nights when patrol was over, it was all he could do to shower and crawl into bed. He'd trained himself to only need a few hours of sleep, but the thought of getting up and working a second full-time job was exhausting just to think about. _'It would explain why Rorschach can get so cranky,_' he told himself. _'Well, if he moves in with me, I will make sure he never needs to work again.'_

Then a new worry occurred to him. Rorschach hadn't answered his question about whether he would move in or not. _'Of course he will. It would be ridiculous for us to live in two separate places.'_

But he _was_ more than a little paranoid about security. Living together in their daytime alter-egos and being partners at night would make it easier to draw a conclusion about their identities. He'd just have to get Rorschach to give him security pointers. He _was_ always going on about the inferior locks on Dan's door.

He turned off the sidewalk to cut through the park._' I wonder what his lock looks like. It's probably a hardware store Master-lock,' _he laughed to himself. Then, he tried to picture the door the lock was on, and the living space behind it. Somehow, he's always imagined it looking a lot like his brownstone, but all in black and white. When he considered it seriously, he realized how laughable this was. He was a trust-fund baby. Rorschach was decidedly not. Besides, there was no way the place would be as immaculate as Dan's building. Rorschach had this nasty habit of wiping spoons on his trench coat and putting them back in the drawer and setting equipment down wherever he happened to be at the time. No, his partner's place would look like a bachelor pad. Empty cans of beans on the coffee table and sugar-coated coffee mugs _everywhere_.

_'I'll have to talk to him about that, if he comes to live with me. _Rorschach_, I'll say...except...I probably won't call him Rorschach. I'll probably call him...what?' _Despite their newer, closer relationship, Rorschach still hadn't shown him his face or told him his name. He'd just assured him that he would introduce his 'disguise.' It was downright weird...

As he thought this, Dan felt a prickle up the back of his spine. The same kind of tingle he felt when surrounded by a gang of knotheads. He scanned the park around him. There was nobody around. Except... There was a kid on a bench that he'd just walked by. This kid was about 17 or 18 and holding a Wonder bread sandwich. There was a tatty looking satchel sitting next to him on the bench. And this kid was _staring_ at him.

Then Dan saw the sign leaning against the bench. He knew, without being able to see the face, that the sign read "The End is Nigh." He'd seen him around. Now he recognized the sharp face and the bright red hair under the blue baseball cap. He was the only human being in sight.

He stared at Dan a little longer and then hurm'd and set his sandwich down on the bench beside him. He stood up and brushed the crumbs off his pants and walked towards him. It was mildly alarming for a moment, and then he realized this kid was a panhandler. He was just looking for a handout. Dan fumbled in his pocket for the change from grocery shopping earlier. The kid seemed determined, might as well give him a couple bucks. After all, he walked around with that stupid sign in the craziest weather. He looked at the cash and wondered what he could get away with.

"Came over to say 'hello.'" The kid's voice was exceptionally low and gravelly. Dan fumbled the bills in his haste to take a second look at this guy.

He was about 5'4, wearing slouchy clothes that hid a slim, well-muscled frame. His jacket was green, which clashed horribly with his hair, and the sleeves came down halfway over his hands. His shoes were just about worn through and, like most teenagers, the backs of his pant legs were dragging, mangled on the ground. He had eyes the color of the sea.

"Jesus." Dan just stood there staring.

The kid moved closer and dropped to one knee, picking up the scattered dollar bills. "Staring Daniel. Know I'm not pretty." He put the money back in Dan's slack hand, stayed kneeling.

Dan dropped to his knees. "How old are you? I always thought you were older than me."

The kid's eyes slunk away and his face turned pink, highlighting his copious freckles. He touched his Sub's jaw line and drew his face to him, kissing him deeply for the second time. This time he looked into the other's eyes. For the first time he saw the fear and pleasure in more than just black inkblots. The boy's eyes fluttered shut. Dan cupped his head in his hands, pulled his mouth away gently. "Answer me."

"Eighteen. Master."

Daniel felt a twinge. He had been 23 for several months. Rorschach was...oh god, he wasn't still living at home, was he? Then his mind turned to the sign. No, he was on his own.

Then he realized. They'd been patrolling together for almost two years...and Rorschach had been active even before he had. Suddenly, his mind flashed to a collar he'd seen in the boutique. It was a chain, with a masculine, flat line. He traced a finger over his Sub's neck. The boy shivered. No...18. He was a man in his own right. Even more than Dan had been at that age. The chain was a sort of three-pronged design that crystallized an idea that had been floating in his mind for quite awhile. "I've got something for you, back at the Nest. A couple things, as a matter of fact."

That blush again.

"Can you come now, or are you," he paused and waved at the sign, "Busy?"

"Daytime relationship must be slower. Should get back to work. Will come tonight."

Daniel was more disappointed than he ought to have been, but he nodded. "Alright. That will give me time to take care of some things." He drew him close for another kiss. "I love you...Rorschach..."

The blush turned scarlet. Daniel smiled. "Walter."

"I love you, Walter."

"Don't know that, just met."

Daniel stood and helped Walter up. "This is so cool." He murmured.

"Hurm, yes."


	5. Other Masks

**Chapter Five Title: Other Masks**

Rorschach didn't show it, but Daniel could tell he was pleased when he was presented with the grappling gun. It had seemed an odd sort of addition to Nite Owl's uniform, but it fit Rorschach's MO nicely. It reminded him of the chain he'd gone back to buy for Walter after their meeting in the park. That was still a surprise. A collar for when Walter- he still didn't know Rorschach's last name- and Daniel Dreiberg became bound.

The white leather collar made Rorschach even happier. He knelt and allowed Dan to untie his scarf and clip the collar around his neck. After that, it seemed like he had a hard time keeping his hands off it. Every time Nite Owl looked over his fingertips were under the scarf, stroking it.

They had a meeting of the Crimebusters that night, and it gave Nite Owl a secret thrill to know what Rorschach was wearing under his scarf. He was so...giddy could be the only word. He hadn't realized that Rorschach was in Subspace until, upon arriving at the meeting, Rorschach loosened his scarf and knelt beside Nite Owl. The room went absolutely silent. His first reaction was to urge Rorschach back to his feet, but he couldn't bear to think about humiliating his Sub like that, after he'd made as huge a decision as admitting to being a collared Submissive, in front of the only people they could consider colleagues. So he put his hand on the back of Rorschach's neck and gestured to Ozymandias with a calm he did _not_ feel. "Go on, Adrian."

"Oh fuck no," the Comedian blurted. "I didn't know you fags even _had_ a sense of humor, but this is the goddamned funniest joke ever." He burst into a roaring belly laugh.

To Rorschach's credit, even though Nite Owl felt his _entire_ body tense, he didn't do anything more than look askance at Nite Owl, who shook his head no.

"Strange, I thought it was your career that was the joke," Nite Owl retorted. He heard Silk Spectre II stifle a giggle.

Comedian snorted and carried on laughing. "Career. Heh. I was definitely wrong about your sense of humor."

Ozymandias gestured Dr Manhattan up to give his report about his and Silk Spectre II's latest cases. During which, Comedian pretended to fall asleep and jerk awake a couple different times. Then Ozymandias asked for a report on Nite Owl and Rorschach's territory.

Nite Owl stood and patted his chair, which Rorschach slid into, and walked to the front of the room. In this situation he went into lecture mode, made a precise, well-prepared speech and looked around when he'd finished. Everyone seemed to have forgotten his and Rorschach's new relationship and were listening; a tribute to his oratory skills.

"Do you have anything to add, Rorschach?" he asked, just like he did every time. Rorschach didn't stand, but raised his voice. "Don't forget LSD."

"Oh, yes. We've been encountering a greatly increased number of criminals on a substance called LSD. They tend to be peaceful, but can be disruptive if they are having a 'bad trip.' Also, there have been a number of incidents of public nudity, which of course, leads to a higher incidence of being victimized by other criminal elements." He looked at his partner who nodded. That seemed to about cover it. He returned to his seat and Rorschach slid easily onto the floor. Nite Owl pressed his knee against the other man's shoulder and whispered. "Thanks," Rorschach nodded silently.

At the end of the meeting, they were approached by Ozymandias. "No jokes, Adrian," Nite Owl warned.

"No, of course not, I can see this is still new. I just wanted to express my congratulations. It can be hard to find stability in this lifestyle." He looked Nite Owl in the eye. "Have you shared your news with Hollis?"

"Not yet. As a matter of fact, you guys were the first to know. Out of anyone."

Adrian nodded wisely and turned away.

The duo walked down the street, companionably silent. "Do you want to go with me, when I talk to Hollis?"

Rorschach's shoulders were hunched and his fists were jammed in his coat pockets. "Hurm."

"You have a right to be there, you know. You're my partner in more ways than one, now."

"Fine."

Rorschach didn't say anything when Nite Owl led them to the back entrance of Hollis's place. It was around midnight, but still relatively early for masked heroes, and the habit of living the nightlife didn't always change so easily. Hollis Mason, the first Nite Owl, opened his door to them.

"Hi Hollis. How are you?" Nite Owl pushed his cowl back and petted the leggy white puppy that was hopping around their feet.

"Phantom! Down!" The pup whimpered and lay down beside the man's recliner. "Doing well, Danny, how are you tonight? Hello, Rorschach. How are you?"

Rorschach nodded and remained standing. It was hard for him to let his guard down in a place he wasn't used to. Dan let it go. He sat in his usual place on the couch. "We're okay. Came to give you an update."

"Would you like a beer, boys?" Hollis gestured towards the kitchen.

"Not this time, thanks Hollis."

"Hurm. Don't drink." It occurred to Dan for the first time that the reason Rorschach didn't drink might be because he was underage. Then again he had a hard time imagining the man with a brew in his hand even if he was twenty-one. Funny, he'd always thought he was.

"Well," Hollis sat down heavily in his chair. "What brings you boys out here?"

Dan rubbed his hands over one another. "We've decided to try something new. Um..." He paused for so long that the expectant silence turned to something else.

Hollis looked back and forth between his protégé and the man he fought crime with.

"Hurm." Rorschach put his hand on Dan's shoulder. "Are together. Denied feelings too long."

The older man sat back in the chair. "Can't say I didn't expect this. You keep a Sub and a Dom together in close proximity like you two have been, and it's not surprising that you'd want to give him more than friendship, Danny." He looked up at the blotted vigilante, "Are you going to take good care of him?"

There was another moment of silence. "Oh. No," Dan said slowly, "See..." Hollis was still giving Rorschach an interrogating look.

Rorschach growled. He settled to his knees at Dan's side and untied his scarf again. "Daniel is Master. Love Master, will protect him."

"You..." He was flabbergasted. "Danny, you're not a Dom. And he's sure not..._is_ he?"

It was finally Dan's turn to blush. "See, I guess I am, and he...is the most amazing Sub I've ever met," he reached down and entwined his gloved fingers with Rorschach's, "And I intend to give him everything he ever dreamed of." His Sub's hand convulsed in his, and he suspected he'd gotten too sentimental in public. "So, what do you think?"

Hollis stood, a huge smile crossing his face. "I'm so proud of you, Danny boy," he clapped a hand on Rorschach's shoulder, "Both of you." Rorschach moved out from under the touch as soon as it was humanly polite. He stood and they both shook Hollis's hand. "Best wishes. Will you be having some kind of party? No, of course not. What am I thinking? Well," he buffeted them both, "You are both welcome here any time. Remember that, sonny." He pointed a finger under Rorschach's nose.

He treated them to a couple stories about the old Minutemen days, for which Rorschach was most attentive during the case-solving portions, and Dan noticed for the first time that Captain Metropolis and Hooded Justice seemed to have had a remarkably close relationship, for two Alphas.


	6. The Dating Game

**Chapter Six Title: The Dating Game**

Since they each have two entirely separate lives, they are required to have two entirely separate relationships. Walter and Daniel cannot show up in a relationship with a person their daytime alter-ego has no reason to have ever even met. Also, I happen to love Rorschach as a prickly little bastard when it comes to any sort of kindness.

It took Dan a while to figure out a game plan for what to do about Rorschach's daytime alter-ego; his Walter disguise. His partner didn't seem to be giving him any hints as to how to go about it, so he made up his own mind. The next time he saw Rorschach with his mask off, trooping down the street with that ridiculous (…ingenious?) sign, he crossed his arms, leaned against a building, and looked at the redhead with as lecherous a look on his face as he could manage.

After a moment, though clearly Rorschach had known he was there the whole time, his head swiveled around and the two stared at each other. Dan stepped away from the wall and approached. "You look hungry, let me buy you a bowl of beans or something. What's your name? Do you have time to stop for lunch?"

The corners of Rorschach's eyes narrowed and he glared at Dan.

It occurred to Dan that the glare was easily as frightening as the blank shifting of the mask. He was amused that such a small muscular reaction was all it took to make him consider that, just maybe, he had crossed a line where no one wanted to go.

"Walter," The response was ground out reluctantly, "I have time for a break."

"Alright," Dan clapped a hand on his shoulder. Rorschach brushed it off, fast as lighting.

"Don't touch."

Of course. In this incarnation, they weren't comrades, hadn't known one another for years and fought side by side. 'Walter' didn't know Dan well enough to let him touch. A thrill went through Dan's chest as he realized he was going to have to court 'Walter's' favor. A whole world of possibilities opened up that hadn't occurred to him before. With a hum of pleasure, he thought, _'I'm _dating_ Rorschach.'_

He put his hands in his pockets and they walked to the Gunga Diner. When they reached the door, Walter started to turn in. Dan stopped and looked at him. He had something much more entertaining in mind than his favorite café. "Not here."

Rorschach stepped back from the door and moved back to his side. They walked in silence, though Dan was _dying_ to start asking the kinds of personal questions one just didn't ask on a first…was this a date? He supposed it didn't quite count, since their cover was just a quick meal, but he intended to make something of it, nonetheless.

He led Rorschach into a steakhouse several blocks away. The hostess knew him, since he came in somewhat regularly, and was friendly when he did. She was less impressed with his lunch companion. Rorschach set the picket sign down in the entryway and unabashedly stared her down.

_'Be nice,'_ Dan thought, _'in all likelihood you'll be seeing her again in the near future.'_ He just smiled his sweetest grin at the girl.

As soon as they were seated in the semi-privacy of the booth, Rorschach leaned forward and growled. "Throwing your money around, Daniel, not good."

He'd expected something to this effect. He measured his words in the Dominant cadence he was becoming used to using. "If you want second-rate treatment, you're going to have to look elsewhere." He studied the menu; Rorschach sat back and gawked at him.

When the waiter came, Dan didn't even let Rorschach try to order the cheapest thing on the menu; he informed the waiter they'd each be having the prime rib, but let Rorschach choose his own sides.

The angry silence lasted until the food came. After the waiter had set their plates down and gone, Dan reached out and put his hand next to Rorschach's. "I meant it. I'm not going to offer you less than the best. You're worth more to me than money."

The distress rang loud and clear on his friend's face, but he dropped his eyes and nodded. The silence was more companionable after that, until Dan's grin broke over the wall into words. "So, Walter, where did you go to school?"

"New Jersey." Rorschach sawed his meat without looking up.

"Okay. What do you do with your free time? Do you have any hobbies?"

"Justice." His tongue snaked out and licked up the stray meat juices running down his chin.

Dan mixed the sour cream with the potato. He thought about tongues for a moment. _'Not an appropriate first date thought._' He decided.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" _'Everyone likes music.'_

Evidently not.

"Music gets people too excited, too sexed up. They want to do that grind dance. Won't be part of it."

"What about books? You're a reader, I know that."

"Barry Goldwater, F.A. Hayek, Stears and Osten."

Dan neatly sliced his prime rib. He didn't express his shock at the materials his partner read. He knew the kinds of views the man held. Once he thought about it, he was more shocked at the authors for writing books Rorschach would deign to read.

"Also read the newspaper."

"The New Frontiersman." Dan nodded. "I like the Gazette." He was thinking of something else it would be appropriate to talk about on a first date, when Rorschach spoke again.

"Have a friend who is an Ornithologist. Have become interested in birds."

"Excuse me, Mr. Dreiberg." The hostess leaned over and whispered to him. "Some of the other customers are complaining about your guests'…apparel, and well, the smell, sir."

"I, uh, I'm sure you can reassure them that we are paying customers, just like themselves." He read her nametag. "Manette, I'm sure you'll see your way clear to keep this sort of thing from bothering us again." He handed her a fifty dollar bill. She set it down on the table.

A thick man came over. "I'm the manager. Is there a problem here, Manette?"

"These gentlemen are disturbing the other customers and they refuse to leave."

Daniel stood up and threw his shoulders back. "I have been a regular customer here for years. I came in for lunch with my friend here and we've been subjected to rude service and even worse manners from your staff. I demand an apology. Now." He was using his best Nite Owl voice, but the manager had a lot more practice being an Alpha than Dan did.

"We would be happy to wrap your meal to go, but if you are disturbing other customers, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Forget it. We're leaving. We aren't going to be back." Dan strode across the floor, relieved to find Rorschach right beside him. He swept out the door, holding it open for his friend, who retrieved his picket sign from the vestibule and proceeded into the street.

Dan ran his fingers through his hair. "Walter, I'm so sorry about them. That was inexcusable."

"Was fine, Daniel." He turned and headed down the street. Dan followed. After a moment of silence, Rorschach asked, "What kind of bird is that?"

"A pigeon." Dan smiled.


	7. The Clothing Makes the Man

**Chapter Seven Title: The Clothing Makes the Man**

Just because I am over the moon for Tailor!Schach.

One of the ideas Dan had that he couldn't wait to try out came to pass two weeks later. He had patrolled with Rorschach every night, ending in two or three play sessions, and twice during the day, ending once in a chaste sort of kiss in the park where they'd eaten lunch.

Try as he might, he couldn't figure out a way to make his idea work with Rorschach in costume, so he decided he would try it on him during the day. 'Walter' wasn't out on the streets every day, as far as he could determine, so he would have to wait until he saw him again. Until then, he would make preparations.

He walked into a tailor's, intending to ask about prices. There was no one at the counter, so he tapped the bell and looked idly at the mannequins displaying the shop's wares.

"Thank you, your order will be ready tomorrow," said a rough, masculine voice from the doorway. An older, matronly woman was being shown out by…well, it figured, rather. 'Walter' ignored him as he saw his customer to the door. Then he stepped behind the counter and fiddled with the yellow tape measure around his neck. "Mr. Dreiberg. A pleasure to see you again. How can I be of service?" He was distinctly_ not _looking him in the eye.

Dan just stood there.

'Walter' took the measuring tape off from around his neck and yarded it through his fingers, then replaced it. "Hurm. Am on the clock."

"You see…" he stopped and looked around, floundering. His partner was dressed more neatly for work here than he did for picketing; his trousers had a nice hem, his suit shirt and waistcoat in opposing colors. "Well I was here to ask about prices for having some suits made."

The tension bled out of the room. Walter grabbed a pencil from the counter and started making notations on a notepad. "We'll need to take your measurements and it depends on what exactly you're looking for, I'd recommend a double breasted suit, considering your frame…"

"It's not for me." The room filled right back up with tension again. "It's…you see, I'm seeing this young man."

His partner _cringed_ and a blush rose up his neck all the way to his hairline.

Alarmed, Dan leaned close and whispered harshly, "I mean _you_, man."

He barely heard the grated, "I know."

"Walter!" hollered a voice from the back room. It was followed immediately by a jowly man in grey tweed. He looked Dan up and down. "Customer, eh? I think you'll be pleased by our boy here; he's one of the best we have."

Walter looked like he could just about melt through the floor. The tips of his ears were practically glowing.

"I'm sure he is, seems very dedicated, sir," Daniel told the man. "We were just discussing some suits I intend to buy for a friend of mine." He kept a straight face and wondered how long he'd be patrolling alone, due to this stunt. "Looking forward to doing business with the company."

"Good, good. Well boy, as long as you're not screwing around out here, I'll be getting back to the inventory." The man disappeared through the curtain again and Dan turned his attention back to Walter. His eyes were closed and his jaw was clenched.

"Do not need to dress me."

"Relax. I know how much you like a well made suit. I've seen the patch jobs you've done on your uniform. I just thought you'd like something nice for…going out. I noticed your pants were dragging on the ground, the other day."

"Clearly don't understand the fundamentals of disguise, Daniel," he looked up with fire in his eyes. "If anyone should be doing the dressing, it's the other way around. Cardigans," he scoffed.

A wicked gleam lit in Dan's eyes. "Alright, Mr. Fashion-Expert. I'll leave the dressing up to you. From now on, you're my personal shopper. We'll go as soon as you get off your shift. Unless you'd prefer to have your suits made here."

"Can make own clothes just fine. Can make yours, too." He drew himself up. "If you would care to step into the back, I will take your measurements."

Dan followed him into a spacious dressing room. He decided he liked the tilt of his Sub's shoulders when he was agitated; usually it was completely disguised under his bulky uniform and trench. He stood on the pedestal and held his arms out to the side. "Part of the reason I want…_am_ going to buy my friend some new clothes is that his current ones don't do him justice. He cuts such a nice figure under there," he said conversationally, well aware that the walls of the dressing room weren't keeping any secrets from Rorschach's co-workers.

Walter glared at him as he measured his arms. It was professional, detached, and he seemed to have mastered doing it while touching the client as little as possible. "Probably more comfortable not sharing his body with the whole world."

As he measured across Dan's shoulders, Dan leaned forward and whispered, "It's my body, now." Walter let out a little gasp and dropped his eyes to the floor. His whole frame changed; his stance went looser, his shoulders softened, and his breathing deepened. _'God, I just put him in Subspace,' _Dan realized.

"As you like," Walter murmured. He measured around Dan's waist and there was a distinct change in the way he handled him; his fingers brushed lightly, unnecessarily, yet with utmost tenderness.

The process went more slowly after that, and when Walter dropped to one knee to measure Dan's inseam there was a tightening in Dan's belly that he had certainly never felt at the tailor's before. He stroked a hand through his Sub's hair; and Walter brushed his cheek against Dan's hand in the barest hint of a nuzzle.

He wanted, more than anything, to tell the little redhead at his feet that he loved him, but part of that love and respect was not letting Walter's co-workers in on a relationship he clearly wasn't comfortable with them knowing about.

It was fun, he decided over the next few weeks, dropping by the tailor's shop, having fittings for suits, and seeing the progress on the suits Walter was grudgingly making for himself. It was less grudging each time Dan stopped by.

One night, Rorschach showed up at the Nest at least an hour earlier than usual, carrying a pudgy garment bag. "Offered to deliver your purchases," he muttered when Nite Owl looked askance at the bag.

He felt that tightness in his belly again when he asked, "Both sets?" Rorschach nodded. "Would you try yours on?" There was a hint of hesitation, but he again, nodded.

They went upstairs and Rorschach disappeared into the bathroom. Nite Owl turned on the lights in the hallway and waited what seemed an unnaturally long time. Finally, the door creaked open.

Rorschach stepped out, uniform gone including his face. It was the first time he had gone from being Rorschach to being 'Walter' in front of Dan; their encounters thus far had been entirely separate. He was clean shaven, something Dan wasn't used to; it seemed as long as he'd known him he'd always had at least a day's growth on his face. He was also barefoot, shifting uneasily back and forth. The suit was black with tiny pinstripes and was fitted much more gracefully than his uniform suit; instead of being designed to disguise his body it was designed to enhance it. His shoulders looked broader though for his size he had fairly broad shoulders anyway, and his legs looked like they went on forever. His hands were jammed in his pockets, his head down.

Daniel pushed back his cowl, but left his goggles on so he would have the enhanced vision they gave. He touched the underside of his Sub's chin until he was standing up straight, looking straight ahead. Then he circled, a bird of prey stalking his victim. He didn't really know much about fashion, but Rorschach obviously did. He'd done a superb job; he looked like he could be a model in a catalogue - if one overlooked the freckles, the shock of unruly hair and the seemingly permanent glower.

"You look…geeze, you look fantastic. Show me the next one." Rorschach nodded curtly and disappeared back into the bathroom. It took less time for him to come out this time.

He looked just as spectacular in charcoal grey. This suit was of a slightly different cut than the first and, though it should have been obvious the first time, Dan realized that Rorschach was still wearing the collar. The tightness in his belly returned, twice as hot. He wanted to peel the layers off and see his Sub wearing nothing but his collar. He wanted…things. Things their relationship wasn't ready for yet. Every session, when they played 'not-touching' it still took Rorschach time to adjust to Dan's hands coming at him; he still tensed whenever Dan got close to his shoulders or his hips, especially his hips. He could count on one hand the number of times they had kissed. It was getting a little easier, but they still had a long way to go before Rorschach was ready to take everything Dan wanted to give.

The third suit was a tuxedo. Dan wasn't sure when, or if he would be taking his partner to any black tie events, but just in case. Besides, didn't every man need a classic, black tuxedo?

He reached out and straightened his partner's bow tie. It didn't really need it, he'd done a better job than Dan could manage with a bow tie, but the urge to touch him was becoming overwhelming, and light grooming seemed a harmless way to get it out of his system.

"Would you like to try yours on, Master?" Rorschach was biting his lower lip, which Dan found to be an endearing habit. He nodded, and went into the bathroom. He stripped out of the owlsuit and laid it next to his partner's carefully folded uniform on the counter. His hand brushed across the surface of the black and white mask, causing it to stir briefly to life. 'Walter' had already seen and fitted him in each of these suits, but this was the first time they didn't have pins sticking out of them. He decided to skip the other two and tried on the tuxedo. _'May as well be a matching set,'_ he told himself as he looked in the mirror.

He liked what he saw. His build was bigger and heavier than Rorschach's; he was probably eight inches taller and more thickly muscled. He had shaved before getting ready for patrol, as he always did, to keep Nite Owl's face looking fresh and wholesome. His goggles looked out of place without the rest of the owlsuit to accompany them, but his glasses were downstairs in the basement. He wondered if it was time for a haircut, his dark brown waves were falling in his eyes without the cowl to keep them back.

He stepped into the hallway, where Rorschach was standing against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "I, uh, can never remember how to do these ties right," he indicated his bowtie which was draped flaccidly around his neck. His partner stepped forward and tucked it under his collar, tying it expertly and giving it a firm pat. He tweaked the fabric on Dan's shoulders and regarded the fit of the suit clinically.

"Looks good." Rorschach was craning his neck to look up at him, and it occurred to Dan for the first time that in their bare feet Rorschach only came up to his shoulders. He was easily ten or eleven inches taller than his partner. The idea amused him, until a tiny voice in the back of his mind said, _'and he can still hand you your ass every time.'_

"You can't understand how lucky I am to have you, can you?" He murmured the sudden realization.

Rorschach looked confused by the non-sequitur and even more confused when Dan leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"Hurm. Time to patrol."


	8. Getting a Tip

**Chapter Eight Title: Getting a tip**

I know it's been a long time since anything exciting happened. I've been a Bad, Self Indulgent Author. Back to the good stuff!

The night was dry, with low-lying smog. Nite Owl liked this better than the rain and snow which had been dumped on the city in the past few weeks. By the time winter came next year, he would have the kinks worked out of the Owlship, and they would be flying the patrol instead of walking it.

They were currently standing across the street from a ratty, anonymous row house which was a poor cover for an underground bar. One of their contacts, which was Rorschach-speak for some guy he'd beat the shit out of, had informed them that the man who'd been supplying the Cx3's with handguns spent his nights here making deals. There was a break in the traffic, and they strode across the street. Nite Owl noted the way his cape fluttered impressively behind him, and the way the two men out front gasped and turned tail when they saw the two vigilantes.

Nite Owl slowed just long enough to apply the strength in his legs to kicking open the door of the bar. There were yells from inside and the two of them flowed in, casing the room for the inevitable raised weapons. The room was a converted living room, set up with mismatched café tables and chairs. There were about a dozen men in the room and one scantily clad waitress wearing a dog collar. A doorway directly ahead led into the kitchen/bar. The bartender was a burly man, also wearing a collar, and there were two bouncers standing on either side of the door to the bar, enforcing the difference between the customers and the staff.

Two men jumped up from their tables, knocking their chairs backwards, and pulled switchblades. Rorschach growled and barreled into the nearest, putting him through a table and scattering the patrons who'd been sitting there. He dodged the blade and grabbed the man's wrist, twisting it until it popped and the knife fell from the lax fingers.

The two men guarding the bar stepped towards him. Nite Owl raised a hand at the bouncers. "We're just here for Joe Malcolm." As he said this, the other man with a knife charged him from the right. Nite Owl feinted to the left, towards the knife, then sidestepped the man's lunge and struck him on the back, sending him flying forward into a wall. His head went through the drywall, but not the stud beyond and he slumped to the floor. The waitress was shrieking, running in place, her hands caging her face.

Rorschach kneed the first man in the side and swung to his feet again, casting around the room. "Malcolm," he snarled. One of the patrons who'd crowded away from the sudden burst of violence towards the wall tried to slip past Nite Owl and out the broken door. "Volunteer!" He pounced past his partner and grabbed the man by the neck.

Nite Owl moved seamlessly out of the way, keeping an eye on the bouncers, who seemed content to remain where they were, keeping them out of the thousands of dollars worth of alcohol in the bar. Watching his partner's back.

"Where's Malcolm?" Rorschach growled, slamming his prisoner's face into the door jam once for good measure.

"He _is_ Malcolm," the waitress wailed.

"No…no, I'm not!" the man cried. One of his hands was trying to dislodge Rorschach's grip on his neck and the other was pawing at his bleeding nose.

"Lies. Do not appreciate lies," Rorschach snarled. He marched the man out into the street. Nite Owl slipped out behind them; he didn't have to bother telling them not to call the cops, but he did it anyway.

He had the man twisted into a sort of pretzel now, his right trigger finger up behind his back and pressed the wrong way. In his efficiency, he'd already broken the man's thumb. "Name and location of your arms supplier."

"You'd better tell him. He doesn't like wasted effort," Nite Owl told the guy, making sure to watch the street and the windows of the bar for any sign of attack. There wasn't even anyone watching out the windows. This was the kind of thing people liked to turn away from.

"You guys are PSYCHO!" the man screamed. His finger snapped. Rorschach shook his head.

"Again." He pushed the second finger into position.

"No way, these guys will kill me if I rat them out." He let out another wail as his second finger was broken too.

"Should have thought of that before you started selling guns to bottom feeders like the Cx3's. Before they started murdering innocents in their muggings and their rapes and their drive-by shootings." Rorschach broke the guy's ring finger to emphasize his rage.

Nite Owl spoke. He was still calm, but increasingly nervous that this guy was holding out so well against the usually effective tactics. "You have five fingers left for him to break."

"Six," Rorschach corrected.

"Six, thank you, Rorschach. You may as well give us answers while you can still feed yourself."

"You freaks can go FUCK yourselves! AH!" There was another crack. "You think you can do this to people and get away with it, you're fucking nuts! Someday someone's gonna get you back for everything you've done and they're gonna find you face down in the gutter with your guts ripped out!"

Rorschach shifted his grip to the man's other hand. "Spare us your foul diatribe." This was taking too long. They all knew it. Nite Owl glanced around for an alternate means of persuasion. He nodded towards a water filled crate further down the street.

The blots on Rorschach's mask shifted more rapidly. He dragged the man towards it and held his face just above the surface of the water. There were little bits of trash floating in it. He leaned close to the man's ear and growled, "How long can you hold your breath?"

"You can't!" The man's protest was cut off as Rorschach shoved his face into the polluted water. He screamed and burbled. The leather glove in his sparse hair jerked him out again.

"Now, give us the name and location or they're going to find _you_ face down in the gutter," Nite Owl told him slowly. He couldn't help but let the note of triumph in his voice show.

"Gunther! We meet down by the docks. I swear, that's all I know!"

"Where by the docks?" Rorschach forced him down towards the water until the tip of his nose was in it.

"66 Fenway Street!"

Rorschach hauled the guy upright, looming over him, giving him his first clear view of the mask swirling angrily. He slammed him to the ground next to a lamp post and zip-tied his hands to it.

Nite Owl, pleased that the gambit had worked, radioed in the location to the police. There was a squad car fairly close by, because they heard the siren almost immediately. As they vanished into the shadows, Rorschach chuckled.

"Water boarding, Nite Owl?"

"He didn't need to know we weren't going to finish him."


	9. Rumble in the Bronx

**Chapter Nine Title: Rumble in the Bronx**

The tip they'd gotten from Malcolm meant they would be spending an indefinite number of nights staking out the address he'd given them. The problem with their method of acquiring information was that, if their informant/victim hadn't been straightforward with them they either had to track him down again, or, if he was in jail as was likely to be the case with Joe Malcolm, they would have to track down another informant. Usually, the first time was sufficiently frightening for the victim and they were honest; Nite Owl had noticed this was increasingly true as Rorschach's reputation as the terror of the underworld spread. After the first couple liars woke up to the vigilante standing in their room in the early hours of the morning demanding more accurate information, instances of lying had gone down substantially.

On their way back from reconnoitering the locale they passed through a part of town that made Nite Owl particularly uncomfortable. It was not all that far from his house, but in a much worse neighborhood; low class tenements and 'gentleman's clubs' with whores standing around even during broad daylight. It didn't sit well with him that he lived within an easy walk of this sort of environment. It was, he supposed, part of the reason his partner was so stringent about the security around Nite Owl's brownstone.

His partner's behavior only added to his unease. When they were in this area, Rorschach's stalk became more pronounced and predatory; his punches came earlier and harder and increased in number.

They were traversing the rooftops on the way down towards the docks when a scream rang out, "Leave her alone!"

Rorschach had been leading the way by several paces and he stiffened, orienting towards the sound. Nite Owl could make out a number of raised male voices within a block, and with unerring certainty his partner sought out a fire escape. _'Geeze, does he have every one in the borough memorized?_' Nite Owl had time to wonder as they traversed the stairway. Then they were on the ground and running toward the sounds of scuffling.

Fleeter of foot, Rorschach gained more ground on his trailing partner when he jumped and swung himself up and over a six foot fence, which Nite Owl was required to negotiate with far less grace. When he dropped catlike to the ground, he had a hard time making out what was happening. There were two Katie heads on the ground and a third pinning a young woman to the wall against a dumpster. There was a young man grappling with another Katie head a little farther down the way. Rorschach was lying into an absolutely _huge_ man in a denim jacket. The guy was bald and missing a couple teeth.

Nite Owl was about to lend his greater weight and reach to the clearly mismatched fight, when he noticed the guy who'd been pinning the girl. He shoved the woman to the ground and grabbed what might have once been a broom handle out of the dumpster and swung it hard at the kid who was grappling with the Katie head. The kid went down like a load of bricks and the girl screamed. The grappler wasted no time kicking the kid in the ribs. The guy swung the broom handle again.

Nite Owl crossed the distance in record time, landing a foot in the small of the guy's back. He spun and roundhouse kicked the other guy in the side, breaking ribs with a satisfying snap. Instinct prompted him to duck as the broom handle swung over his head. He lashed out with an elbow to the stomach. He reached up, snatched the broomstick, spun it and slammed it into the guy's face. The guy tripped backwards over the fallen kid and went down for the count.

"Hnnk."

Instinct tingled up Nite Owl's spine again. He turned in time to see the big man move with frightening speed, reach down with both hands and wrap them around Rorschach's neck. He hoisted the much smaller man off his feet and slammed him into the concrete wall of the nearest building. He leaned forward. Time telescoped. Nite Owl ran like the air had turned to water. He could see Rorschach's glowingly white mask, slowly being eaten up with black, the blots fluttering rapidly as they expanded.

He saw the man stiffen. Heard him mutter, "Fucking collar?" Saw his fingers dig under the scarf, tear it upwards, revealing the shining white collar underneath. Heard him call to his buddies, "This guy is somebody's bitch!" Felt his heart skip a beat when the man leaned forward and said to the little vigilante writhing in his grip, "Gonna make you my bitch." Saw him turn, grinning, looking for approval from his buddies.

Time sped back up. Nite Owl swung his fist into the man's kidneys with all the force of his rush and his rage. It was like punching a wall, but he swung his left fist into the other kidney, heedless of even the fact he was roaring. The man grunted as the third and forth punch landed. He pulled Rorschach away from the wall, and Nite Owl was too enraged to even notice that his legs weren't kicking anymore, and slammed him back into the wall, not even turning around to look at his attacker.

Nite Owl reached up and dug his fingers into the man's shoulders, brought his armored knee up into the man's groin. The man wheezed, and threw an elbow back into Nite Owl, sending him back a few steps. He threw Rorschach to the ground, where he crumpled, before turning. Nite Owl felt a thrill of fear. He only came up to this man's shoulders, and was only half as wide. Something in the back of his mind registered that this must be what Rorschach felt like facing up to Nite Owl. The thought sent a surge of emotion through him that he couldn't identify.

The fear subsided and he dodged backwards as a punch from the ham sized fist struck out at him. He wrapped his arm over the top of it, trapping it against his body and slammed his palm into the elbow, pushing it the wrong way. The man might be bigger and stronger, but his bones broke in the same spots as everyone else's. The man howled in an unearthly way and reached for him with his other hand. Nite Owl smirked as he trapped and broke that arm, too. He forced the other man back with his own broken arm, leaping forward and bringing his elbow down on the side of his neck. The big man went down on his knees and then it was Nite Owl's hand around his neck. He hammered him again and again, nose, jaw, mouth. His knuckles were slick with blood and it sprayed off his glove every time he drew his fist back to slam it into the man's face again.

He saw the man's eyes start to roll back. He forced himself to unclench his fist. Instead he reached out and jerked the man's head forward, "His name is Rorschach," he snarled, the last thing the man heard before he lost consciousness.

"Nite Owl," the voice was full of gravel and whisper-hoarse. Nite Owl realized he'd probably been called more than once. He turned to see Rorschach standing over him, one hand extended to help him to his feet.

He took the hand and stood, not wanting to put too much pressure on the touch, "The boy?"

He turned. The girl was kneeling over the fallen young man. She looked up at them with panic in her eyes, "He's dead, oh god, I think he's dead."

Nite Owl reached out and pulled her away gently. He stood so she had her back to the carnage when he spoke to her. Behind her Rorschach knelt beside the boy, "What is your name?"

"Marie."

"What is his name?"

"Oh god, I don't know. These guys, they dragged me back here. I screamed and he came in here. He tried to help me. I've never seen him before." Behind her, Rorschach had turned the kid's shirt aside and was feeling for a pulse under the bloody chain collar the boy was wearing.

"Did they hurt you?" He had a feeling he wasn't going to have to ask any more questions about the boy.

"No, he got here in time. He saved me. Oh god, he's dead isn't he?" She started to turn around, but he tightened his grip on her shoulder. Rorschach looked up and shook his head.

"Marie. My partner is going to radio the police. Is there anyone you can stay with tonight?"

"My, my friend Alexia. She's got a place just down the block."

Nite Owl nodded. He handed Rorschach the radio from his belt and led the girl out to the better lit road, "Let's wait out here. We can keep an eye out for the officers."

"And the ambulance?" She asked in a small voice.

"Yeah. The ambulance, too."

He was vaguely aware of his partner, back in the shadows of the alley, tying unconscious Katie heads to dumpsters. He, meanwhile, distracted Marie with small platitudes. Normally(,) they wouldn't keep her here, but he thought the paramedics should take a look at her(,) and a statement that the boy had been there to help her would be helpful as well.

Rorschach was silent on the roof run back to the Nest. As they walked up the abandoned subway tunnel, his hand snaked out and latched onto Nite Owl's bicep, "He was a Sub."

That boy. The boy who had died. Defending a girl he didn't know. The boy Rorschach had, if only for a few moments, fought back to back with.

Nite Owl nodded, "I saw that."

Rorschach dropped his arm and stuffed his hand in his pocket, "Was brave."

"Yes, very brave. A hero."

They walked up the ramp, into the Nest. Rorschach stood brooding over the shell of the airship, "Almost done?"

Dan pulled off his goggles and pushed his cowl back, "Three months or so, until we go up in her. Depending on how much time we spend patrolling and how much time…" He considered his words carefully, "We spend working on her."

He moved closer, watched his partner's muscles tense as he got within arm's length, "I want to take a look at your neck."

"It's fine."

_'Stubborn!'_ Dan ran a hand through his hair in frustration, "That was my fault, I'm sorry." He took a breath, "Take your scarf off, Rorschach. I'm going to make sure your neck is okay."

The inkblots swirled more slowly for a moment, and he remained tense. Then his hands came up and untied the scarf. He didn't turn around.

Not sure how far he wanted to push it, Dan circled around in front of him and looked at the angry, red pre-bruises running the circumference of his Sub's neck. _'Geeze, I can make out that asshole's handprints.'_

He reached out to lift the lower edge of the mask out of the way. Rorschach batted his hand away. He growled. His partner followed suit.

Fair enough, he was expecting the same respectful treatment he was accorded during his sessions of being Dommed, so Dan licked his lips, "I'm going to touch you, just enough to lift your mask so I can see the extent of the damage." His Sub stiffened.

Then, slowly, he nodded. Once.

"Tilt your head back, Rorschach." He complied. Dan was careful to only lift the mask as far as absolutely necessary. The bruising went all the way around, and it was going to be far worse tomorrow. How was 'Walter' going to explain this? He felt another shudder of that feeling he'd felt in the alley, when he'd faced that man and thought of how it must be for Rorschach almost every time he went into a fight. It felt remarkably like… pride. He wanted to live up to his partner's extraordinary bravery. He wanted to honor that. Then he felt the other feeling; fear. What if the man hadn't noticed the collar and stopped to mock him? He probably would have crushed Rorschach's windpipe and Marie wouldn't have been the only one kneeling over a body in that alley. _'Dear god, what if something had happened to him?'_

He looked down at his Brave, Super Heroic Submissive, "Stay with me. I know you have to go to work, but stay here until then."

"Is that an order?" His voice was still hoarse from the choking.

"I could have lost you. If you hadn't made it back…" He shook his head, "I want to spend my time with you while I still have you."

Rorschach's mask exploded into a flurry of black static.

He didn't say anything for such a long time, Dan gave in.

He pulled his glasses off and cleaned the lenses, "Yes. It's an order."

"Yes," he nodded, "If my Master commands, his Slave will obey."


	10. Concession

**Chapter Ten Title: Concession**

It was about 4am. Rorschach was sitting at the kitchen table, pointedly ignoring the bruises around his neck, but occasionally clearing his throat. Dan was cooking omelets.

He was about to get plates out of the cupboard when another idea occurred to him, "In the hall closet there is a kneeling stool. Please bring it in." He kept his back to his Sub, getting the salt and pepper shakers out, and either it took the other man a moment to realize he was being addressed, or he was conflicted about following the order. When Dan glanced back, he noticed that Rorschach had started writing in his journal while waiting. The red pen he used was set neatly in the fold of the pages. The urge to read the tiny script was burning, but he resisted and moved Rorschach's usual chair to the corner of the kitchen. When his partner brought in the stool, he set it down where his chair had been, and after a moment's consideration knelt on it to resume his writing.

Dan set the salt and pepper shakers and a jar of jam in the center of the table and sat down, placing the plate filled with omelets and slices of buttered toast slightly towards the corner of the table. Rorschach stopped writing and looked at it. Dan set a fork down next to the journal and held the other one poised over the plate.

"Breakfast. You are going to eat as much as you want. I can make more, if need be." He waved his fork at Rorschach for emphasis. Then he scooped up some cheesy egg with a bit of hamburger and jalapeno cooked in and popped it in his mouth. After a moment, Rorschach's hand moved forward to take the fork and picked up a bit of the omelet without jalapeno.

Dan stole a glance at his face. His inkblots were doing that slow swirl that meant he was…well he'd always thought it meant he was forcing himself under control, forcing an unnatural calm, but since Rorschach had told him he went into Subspace when he was sutured, and since Dan had seen him in Subspace, he realized it was a relaxation of control.

It made him happy to be sharing a plate with his Submissive; it made him feel domestic. Like family. He remembered years of breakfasts, lunches and dinners with his mother finishing up cooking and kneeling at his father's side to share from his plate. He wanted to run his hand through Rorschach's hair and kiss him on the forehead, share his appreciation and satisfaction with him. He would have to find a way that would be less offensive to his partner. He made a fist and touched it to Rorschach's shoulder with just enough pressure to make him sway a little bit.

"You're doing a good job. Making your Master very proud."

The black blots slowly pooled around his cheeks. Dan smiled. From day one he had liked it when Rorschach blushed.

After breakfast, they played the Not-Touching game. Dan believed that having a routine he could rely on would help Rorschach desensitize from his hatred of being touched. He planned on expanding the game as time went by, so that eventually he would be able to touch him at other times without risking life and limb. Maybe someday, Rorschach would welcome his touch; maybe someday even enjoy it. But for now, he kept it within specific guidelines. He needed Rorschach to be able to trust those guidelines to protect him.

Then he went upstairs and retrieved a pile of clothes from his lower right hand dresser drawer, "Take a shower, and then change into something. This stuff should come pretty close to fitting you."

"Fluoride, Daniel." Rorschach's head was bowed and his hands were at his sides, but he was in a fighting stance.

After this many nights of compliance, Dan found himself deeply irritated that one of his commands was being defied. He stepped forward and said, in his best Nite Owl voice, "I do _not_ appreciate being disobeyed, Rorschach. Come with me. Now." He turned on his heel and marched down into the Nest. He was silently relieved to hear his partner's footsteps behind him. It was always a worry that he'd push him too far and he would run. It probably always would be.

They stopped on the landing, just inside the basement and Dan pointed at the piping that ran through the floor and disappeared upstairs, "Look." Rorschach stared stubbornly at the wall where Dan pointed, "This is the plumbing. For the whole house. Do you see that box right there?" Partway up the wall was a mechanism that clearly wasn't part of the original plumbing, "It's a Fluoride filter. Do you honestly believe I would order you to do something that would harm you?" He faced Ror, "Really, Rorschach?"

His partner's voice was small and still hoarse, his face inclined towards his feet, "Shouldn't have doubted you, Daniel. Was bad. Should be punished."

"I admit that, under normal circumstances, your defiance would warrant punishment, but I have something in mind for you for later that you are not going to like. If you are able to accept it, I am willing to overlook this…poor behavior, this time."

Rorschach tilted his head, "Not smart to accept unspecified offers."

"I'll tell you what, if you feel like you can't do what I ask I will punish you for this. Are these acceptable terms?" Dan crossed his arms. Rorschach nodded and walked back up the stairs.

Dan followed, settling into a chair in the living room. He listened to the running water and fantasized about watching. He closed his eyes and imagined steaming water darkening red hair, running down a perfectly muscled frame, Rorschach's hands running over his own body, soap suds dripping down his pale flesh. A string of tension warmed his belly and his fantasy evolved to include his stepping into the shower behind his partner, the feel of firm flesh under his hands as he stroked his hands down those shoulders, that belly, slipping a hand down his partner's spine. Dan slowed and controlled his breathing. He imagined kneeling before his Sub, Rorschach's head leaned back, the hot water pattering over both of them.

"These aren't your clothes."

He sat up, sharply, hoping Rorschach would only think he'd begun falling asleep and wondering if maybe those vivid images had been the beginning of dreams. His eyes focused on the sweatpants and shirts, dear lord, _shirts_, a short sleeved tee with a long sleeved tee under it, which Rorschach was wearing. He was standing in the hallway, holding the remaining clothes. His mask was back to its normal spin and ebb.

"What? Yes, they are."

"They fit. Cannot be yours."

They did, indeed, fit. Not too loose, not too tight. Dan was pleased that he'd chosen well. He had sort of hoped Rorschach wouldn't notice that the clothes were chosen to fit him and not Dan. It was too much to hope that the detective wouldn't be able to detect the size difference, "I always worried that one day your clothes would be too carved up to be salvageable. I took precautions."

"Weird, Daniel."

He indulged in a long look up and down his Sub's body, right down to the socks he was wearing, and made Rorschach shift uncomfortably, "Go put the rest of the clothes in the lower right hand drawer of the dresser in the bedroom at the end of the hallway on the right." His head came up a little. 'So he knows where the master bedroom is, interesting.' "You can put your clothes anywhere in there." It confirmed Dan's suspicions that his partner knew more about the layout and contents of the brownstone than he let on. He'd done more than his fair share of investigating, and Dan intended to even the score soon enough, "I'm going to take a quick shower. I'll be there in a few minutes."

The shower was incredibly hot and a relief in more than one way. He stood under the stream of water and let it wash his tension and nervousness away. He shaved, indulging a masochistic desire to delay what was coming. He got dressed in his pajama pants and a tank top. Gratuitous shows of flesh were not going to endear him to Rorschach.

The bedroom light was off. _'Did he go to sleep already?'_ Dan pushed the door open. Rorschach was sitting on the edge of a chair by the window, keeping watch. He rocked to his feet when his Master came into the room.

"Are you going to be too hot in those socks and shirts?" Dan left the light off and stood by the bedside table, taking his daily dose of allergy medication and setting the alarm clock.

"Will be fine."

"Do you usually sleep with your face on?" Dan carefully kept from making eye contact, turned the covers down, and smoothed them out neatly.

"No."

He nodded, pursing his lips, "Do whatever you need to, to feel comfortable. I want you to feel safe here." He took his glasses off and set them on the bedside table. He slipped into the bed.

He wished with all his heart that Rorschach would follow his example of his own accord. He suspected this was not to be. In the dark, with his glasses off, he couldn't make anything out, but he sensed that his Sub was still standing over by the window. He sighed. For years, he had coerced and convinced Rorschach to trust him, finagling him with all his skill. Now, he'd found a way around the coaxing, but it was still up to him to initiate everything. "Get in the bed."

He couldn't know that his Sub was suffering from excruciating uncertainty. That Rorschach was petrified of making the wrong move and destroying this house of cards they had built in the past few weeks; of alienating the one person he could trust with himself and losing his best friend.

The bed springs creaked and Dan felt his weight shift onto the bed. He turned on his side to face his partner.

There was a quiet whisper in the darkness.

"You're welcome. Would it be too much if I touch you? Not…down there, like when we play in the kitchen."

"Would like that."

Dan could hear the unasked question, "I'll stop if you get uncomfortable, okay? But try to relax." He reached a hand out, then stopped, it was dark, so he'd better be more communicative than usual, "I'm going to start by touching your collar." He ran his fingertips over the smooth leather, "I'm glad you honor me by wearing this." He touched his hand lightly to the back of Rorschach's neck and realized he was not wearing his face, "You took your mask off."

"Yes, Master."

"I'm going to touch your face and your hair." He shifted his left hand under Rorschach's neck and cupped the back of his head. With his right hand he touched his temple, stroked a hand through his short shock of hair. It was just long enough to not be bristly. He traced the line of his ear, down his jaw line, then up to his lips. Memories of their two kisses came flooding back. The one through the mask had had an erotic, forbidden quality. The kiss with bare lips had been an experience worth repeating, "Are you in Subspace?"

"Yes, Master, since…"

"Go on."

"Since you showed me that you're protecting yourself, and me. The fluoride filter. You should be safe. Take too many risks." Dan squeezed the back of his neck, just barely, to stem the flow of worry.

"So, you'll teach me what I need to know, to protect myself and…and our secret identities?" He stroked his hand through the red hair again.

"Yes."

He traced his fingertips up across Rorschach's nose, stroking across his forehead and then across his cheekbones. He was getting lost in the sensation of his friend's face under his hands.

"Hurt me."

He stopped, "What?"

"Want to be a good Sub, want you to hurt me, want you to be happy."

Dan pulled away, "What? No. Rorschach. I'm not a Sadist." The world started spinning again, this time it was _not_ in a good way, "I…I didn't know you were a Masochist."

"Doms are Sadists. Subs are Masochists."

"Oh Geeze. No, Rorschach. Not always. I don't want to hurt you."

"Will be good, will scream and cry, or will be tough and take it. To make you happy."

"No." He had to think. This was _all_ wrong, "You don't even sound like you want to be hurt. I'm not going to do something neither of us wants. Listen, just because I am a Dom doesn't mean I'm automatically a Sadist. Are you a Masochist?"

"Don't like pain. Take it anyway."

A growl rose in his throat, "Then you are not a Masochist. I'm more of a Masochist than you are. At least I like it when you hit me. That's not how it works, Doms being Sadists and Subs being Masochists. The two are not mutually exclusive." How had Rorschach made it through his entire life without knowing any of this? Then again, a lot of people bought into stereotypes. Including the one in the bed with him, "Geeze. No, now, listen, I'm going to explain this to you. Masochists don't just put up with pain, they enjoy it. Like Subs enjoy being in Subspace. There are plenty of Doms who are Masochists. There are equally as many Subs who are Sadists. I always assumed you were a Sadist."

"Don't get off on punishing criminals."

If he hadn't been so upset, hearing Rorschach use the term 'get off on' would have put Dan out of commission for the night, "That's different. Have you ever been with someone and something like biting them, or playing rough made it more exciting for you?"

"No."

And idea Dan had been working on was beginning to crystallize. He wasn't ready to look too closely at it yet, so he put it out of his mind, "Let's try."

"Won't hurt you, Master."

"You'll do what I say."

There was a slow acknowledgement.

"We're going to kiss and you're going to bite my lip. Then, I'm going to bite yours and you're going to be honest and tell me which you liked more." He didn't give him time to reconsider, just bent forward and pressed their lips together, pulling him closer with his left hand.

It took Rorschach awhile to work up to biting. When he did, it was a tentative nip at best. Dan growled, "Harder." He took his Master's lip in his teeth and worked it. The sensation went straight through Dan, and he moaned, deep in the back of his throat. His Sub was encouraged, and bit a little harder, letting out a tiny moan of his own. His hands were locked around Dan's shoulders now, and he released the bite to devour Dan's mouth.

Quickly, already knowing the answer, Dan bit firmly into Rorschach's lower lip. His Sub stiffened and the sensuality started draining away. He let go and pushed his partner onto his back, leaning over him and kissing his earlobe, "Hurt me, Rorschach. Make me feel good."

With lightning speed Rorschach's hands shifted on his arms, fingernails digging into the pressure points below his biceps. He lifted his head and bit just above Dan's collarbone, growling into his mouthful of flesh. Dan moaned in pain and excitement; his left hand tightened incrementally around Rorschach's neck and his right petted up and down his ribs, fingers playing over the scars.

Their bodies were pressed together for their full lengths. It was as if his partner was sharing his skin. If only the damn clothes were out of the way. He could feel his body respond to the desire and shifted to try and hide the evidence of his indiscretion from the man so intimately pressed against him. It probably just drew his attention to the problem, because he went totally still. As if something in him had died. His left hand detached from his bicep and slid down between them. He bit his neck again as his hand brushed and then enveloped Dan.

Dan was shocked. He honestly hadn't expected this response. He had tried to cut off the possibility of pushing it too far tonight by taking care of it in the shower. Clearly ineffective. He leaned down to kiss his Sub and encountered wetness. His hand shot to Rorschach's wrist, stopping the tentative motion mid-stroke.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "You are crying." He knew for a fact he hadn't been, a moment before.

"Eyes watering, is different." He ran his thumb over Dan halfheartedly.

"No." Dan wrapped his arms around him and drew him close, "I wouldn't be a good Dom if I did this to you. If I hurt you more. We'll do this when you're ready. If you ever are."

Rorschach curled in against Dan, with his head tucked under his chin, fists pressed against their chests, "Liked biting you." He murmured.

"I know." He had to bite off an endearment. Pet names didn't do the man justice, "I know. I liked it too. We'll get there. It will just take time." He swallowed again, "I have to apologize. I went _way_ too fast. I got caught up in my own feelings about, about you not knowing that it's okay to be what you are. Someone did you a great disservice, feeding you these stories and it infuriates me. Someone…hurt you, and I just want to…get even with them."

The body in his arms was shuddering. Dan made a decision to believe it was not crying. _'This shouldn't be the way you spend your first night with your lover. They shouldn't have been allowed to take this away from us.' _He thought. Something he would never vocalize.

That night, he dreamed that they were breaking up a child pornography ring. Every child he rescued had red hair and blue eyes. He beat every criminal until they stopped moving.

Author's Note: It is a common misconception in our world that Doms are all Sadists and all Subs are Masochists. This is reason enough to address it in a chapter of its own. It may seem odd that Rorschach, having grown up in a world where BDSM is everyday life, would have this stereotype. But when you consider that people in our world often stereotype men as only wanting sex, and take into account that canon Rorschach considers all women to be pure or whores, I feel justified in allowing this stereotype to be present in the BDSMverse. And if anyone would have the opinion that Subs are weak, Masochistic and shameful, it's probably Ror. He's learning his lesson.


	11. Investigation

**Chapter Eleven Title: Investigation**

So, as it turns out, it is actually pretty difficult to keep Dan and Ror IC and still manage to get them to do something they would probably never do in a million years. I have to give serious props to all the authors out there who write Dan/Ror slash and make it seem less than ludicrous. I hope my readers are able to count me among them. All in all, probably not.

Credit where credit is due, I'd like to thank everyone who's written a Fic that I stole something from. Give me a break, we all do it.

There hadn't been enough sleep by the time the two woke up. Dan had some pretty good light blocking blinds since he was, by nature and necessity, a day sleeper, but the sun was making the room uncomfortably warm. He felt his partner move stealthily out of his arms. His eyes opened and he put his glasses on. The red hair came into focus first, followed by that rock solid body. _'Polka dots are always in,'_ he recalled having read somewhere. It was a cruel comparison, "Shoes," he said.

Rorschach turned around, cocking his head.

"In the closet, there's a pair of shoes that are your size. They're tennis shoes. I wasn't sure…" He drifted off, having trouble making things connect properly after two hours of sleep, "The alarm hasn't gone off. Why are we up?"

Rorschach went to the closet and fished out the black Converse All Stars, "Going for a run." He dropped the shoes on the floor by Dan's side of the bed and sat down beside his feet to put them on.

Clearly, Dan's Masochist side was still out in full force because he opened his mouth, "Would you mind some company?"

His partner focused on his shoes, as though inspecting the bow he'd tied the laces into, "Would like that." He stood up and looked at Dan, who rolled out of bed and stood facing him. Rorschach reached up and pulled his Master's face close and kissed him slowly. Dan's eyes closed and when he opened them again the kiss was broken and his partner had disappeared from the room. He licked his lips and got dressed quickly.

Roof running was very different from going on a morning run with his partner. Was he in disguise enough to be Walter? Dan decided yes. Walter was in much better shape than Dan. He ran every morning, rain or shine or snow or fog; unless he was laid up with an injury that wouldn't allow it, and sometimes that didn't stop him either.

He pushed Dan's limits. He was very patient, but he didn't shorten the length of his usual run, even though he did occasionally slow down to wait for Dan to catch up. If running in place or, more embarrassingly, backwards could be counted as slowing down. At least he wasn't literally running circles around him. That would have made him give up, or, more likely, punch Walter in the face-mask, whatever.

On the way back, they stopped at the news stand.

"Whew." Dan said, stretching and incredibly grateful for the break. Walter jogged in place as he waited for the newsman to count out the nickels, "This sure is bracing. I feel like a million bucks."

"We'll work on it," Walter grated. Dan shot him a dirty look and the corners of his partner's mouth turned up.

After they returned home, Dan bided his time. 'Walter' went off to work, and Dan waited about an hour before changing into a pair of jeans and a button down shirt. He put on an old newsboy cap he hadn't worn since he was about sixteen, and left the house.

It was a simple matter for a detective, someone used to hunting down criminals in locations they didn't want to be found, to figure out where his partner went when he went home in the morning. It didn't surprise him that the address was smack in the middle of the neighborhood Rorschach so clearly hated. _'No big surprise,'_ Dan thought as he passed two very familiar looking Katie heads, sporting fresh bruises, lounging on the corner, _'It must drive him crazy, passing these guys every day and not being able to do a thing about it.'_ Most of the buildings in this neighborhood were built of brick and the mortar was crumbling. There was graffiti up to ten feet above street level, broad swaths reaching the roof where there were fire escapes.

Walter's tenement in particular was no different. Dan stood across the street for a moment, fumbling with a cigarette which he'd decided suited his disguise's cover. He put it in his mouth and blew lightly, to make the end glow and look like he was actually smoking it. This trick only worked in cold weather, when his steamy breath was indistinguishable from smoke. He pulled the collar of his jacket up and surreptitiously studied the building; a quick count of stories and the number of windows, and years of intimate familiarity with the layout of cheap apartment buildings like this one yielded the most likely location of Rorschach's apartment.

It was on the top floor, _'Easy access for a roof runner, hard for anyone on the street,' _and only had one window, _'minimum number of entry points to be attacked from.'_ He rubbed his hands together and started walking towards the nearest building with a fire escape. _'Let's see what kind of lock he's got on _his_ door.'_

He shimmied up the fire escape to the roof of the neighboring building, leapt to the target building, and looked down from above the window. It looked to be about a seven foot drop from the edge of the roof to the window ledge. Dan blocked out the part of his mind that started calculating how narrow the ledge was and at what velocity he would hit the ground if he managed to miss it. (four inches, and not fast enough to kill him, just fast enough to put him in the hospital and open him to some _very_ awkward questions from his partner.) _'He snooped first.'_ He told himself.

He swung himself off the roof and didn't miss the window ledge. He did notice there were conveniently missing bricks in the masonry around the window and spaced just perfectly for a person about ten inches shorter than Dan; of course. The window was one of those that slide upwards on a sort of built in rail. He reached down to pry open the window when he realized that Rorschach would have means of detecting this. Pulling his goggles from their hiding place beneath his cap, he focused along the edges of the window and noticed, at the very corner, a fine red hair pinched between the window and the frame. _'Well you're not the only one who has read detective stories, my friend.'_ He pressed the toe of his shoe on the hair to hold it in place, and bracing himself against the brickwork with one hand he reached down to push the window up the rail. It budged, and then stopped. He looked around his arm. Of course, the damn thing was locked. Well, it should be a simple matter of using the blade of his pocket knife and releasing the latch.

He took a moment to rescue the hair and tuck it in his back pocket for use on the way out, then flipped open the pocket knife and slid it along the bottom edge of the window. It caught on something wooden before it could reach the latch. He tried from a different angle with the same result. This was taking _far_ too long. Someone was bound to notice a guy on a window ledge. He worked at it, only to realize there was a trick to moving the latch with the knife, when he went at it from straight on. The instant it clicked free, he shoved the window up and fairly rolled inside.

The window left him fuming. _'What kind of paranoid nutcase is worried about window break-ins on the third floor'_ It turned out Rorschach had installed some sort of wooden block that kept the window from being unlatched from the outside. Once he'd figured out the trick it had been rather painless to undo, but in the meantime he'd been hanging from the side of a building for almost five minutes.

In his frenzy about the window, he hadn't taken the time to look inside and determine if this was even the right apartment. The security strongly suggested it was, but the smell absolutely confirmed it; it had that distinct, unpleasant Rorschach odor to it, like the man in high summer.

Dan straightened up and looked around. There was no doubt about who lived here. The trappings of the apartment itself were like so many of these places; sort of an avocado tint to everything, peeling wallpaper, the usual. It was the level of personalization that stunned him - there was none, nothing on the walls, nothing to indicate that this was more lived in than any hotel room. There was a small pile of clothes on a hastily made bed, dirty or just unfolded it was hard to tell. There was a kitchenette, a hot plate, and a garbage bin overflowing with empty cans. A single set of silverware, a single coffee mug with a broken handle, and a can opener sat on the counter beside the hot plate. There were two doors. One had a coke bottle balanced on the handle, so he assumed that one led out to the hallway. The other revealed a miniscule bathroom. Just a shower and toilet. The occupant of the quarters was obviously expected to use the kitchen sink. On a small shelf was a shaving kit.

Dan decided this was as good a place as any to start snooping, and went through it to find the usual things one finds in a shaving kit. He checked under the bath towel draped on a peg on the back of the door, in the freshwater tank on the back of the toilet, and tried to see if the mirror was concealing a built in medicine cabinet; it wasn't.

In the bedroom/living room he ran his hands under and across the mattress, searching for concealed…anything. He resisted the temptation to make the bed more neatly. With hospital corners, perhaps. He carefully shifted through the pile of clothes, making certain he returned them in the same order he'd found them. Nothing. No mail, no personal documents, nothing.

Then he remembered. The way they'd first started communicating information before they'd really become partners, before (presumably) Rorschach knew where to find Nite Owl when they wanted to patrol together. They'd left messages in the dumpster outside the Gunga Diner on 43rd and 7th. He looked apprehensively at the garbage pail, considering how long it would take an emaciated teenager to eat through that many cans of beans. How moldy the stuff on the bottom must be. Well, if this was going to be a thorough investigation, it was only right that he read any mail the other man had lying (covered in trash or not) around his apartment.

He started pulling cans out and setting them in the sink. At first they were just crusty with dried on juices, but the further he went, the nastier it got. Eventually, he got to the bottom and found a plastic sack. It was stiff with paper, and he carefully pulled it out.

Inside were the things he'd been looking for. Three birth certificates, state issued photo ID, two fake drivers licenses, and a couple old newspaper clippings. That was it.

From these he learned that his partner's name was Walter Joseph Kovacs, that he was born March 31, 1950 to Sylvia and Charlie Kovacs, in the St Georges hospital on Amherst . That, as Walter J Kovacs, he was not legally permitted to drive a vehicle in New York State, though he could as Morgan Burleigh, born August 15, 1947, and…Dan stared at the other fake ID. His partners picture glared up at him from all three ID's, the same picture, in fact. But the third ID…

'_He stole my identity.'_ Dan thought, a sort of coldness moving up his body from his feet. Then he looked more closely. It wasn't quite right.

David Dreiberg, born September 4, 1945.

He flipped through the birth certificates to the one for David Dreiberg. It listed both Dan's parents and the time of Dan' birth, but five minutes later.

'_He made us twins.'_ The cold feeling expanded and changed into something else. There was no way to tell how long ago this birth certificate had been forged, but clearly…no, nothing was clear here. He looked at the rest of the paper in the file.

There were three newspaper articles. One was about the murder of a woman named Kitty Genovese, one about the forming of the Watchmen, and the last was an article featuring Rorschach and Nite Owl after being interviewed, or more accurately, Nite Owl being interviewed and Rorschach ranting about the corruption on all levels of society. The three articles were marked and had items circled, the way Rorschach always did when looking for leads.

It was an odd article to chose, Dan thought, it wasn't their first appearance in the paper together, and it wasn't their biggest bust which had landed them the journalist's attention. In fact, he remembered the interview pretty well.

_They were standing in the shadows, watching the police haul away a group of miscreants they'd busted for drug running. The reporter was new to the job, eager and still bright eyed. He juggled his notepad around and asked them silly, first timer questions, "Why do you hide your true identities?" and "What makes you so hungry for justice?"_

_Nite Owl was younger then, and tried to answer in sound bites, "We cannot endanger our civilian friends and family by revealing our activities to criminals," and "We cannot stand idly by and tolerate the crimes perpetrated by the members of society who do not wish to attain to society's standards." Rorschach had paced behind him, and when he said this, surged forward._

"_The bleeding heart liberals have spent too much time turning their back on this city. They pretend if they just whore themselves out to the rich, those political Johns will buy their tricks and set them free from the filth they've entrenched themselves with. These Jewish fraternities of wealth and ignorance are going to drown this city, and this country in their hedonistic, self-gratifying, opulence until there is no more want; except those children left crying in the street when their means of living has been bought out, and their fathers turn to thievery and their mothers turn to prostitution. When they sacrifice their own offspring to the gears of the machine, that their blood, sweat and tears may oil it, and consumption and degradation can go on."_

_The journalist's pencil was flying, occasionally he would mutter a word like "hedonistic" or "mothers turn to prostitution." Nite Owl just turned and stared at his partner. They'd only been working together a few months and it was one of the first times he'd gone on a rampage against anything more abstract than the criminals they'd fought that night. Or once, about a song he'd been forced to endure overhearing about a woman's sexual exploits. After the journalist offered his hearty thanks, mostly to Rorschach who distained to acknowledge him, Nite Owl had pulled him aside. He was barely able to keep from slamming him into the alley wall._

"_I'm Jewish," was the point he decided to settle on. There were so many offensive and hideous accusations in the diatribe that it had been hard to pick just one, so he'd chosen the one that hit closest to home, "Do you think I'm like that? Do you hate me?"_

_His partner stayed quiet under his furious gaze for a long time. He had almost believed that was an unspoken confirmation, because even in his short time with Rorschach he'd learned that the other man wouldn't lie. He'd also learned that sometimes he had to think about his answers before he was willing to commit to them. Shocking, considering the statement he'd just committed to in front of a large portion of the newspaper reading populace._

"_Can be…soft, sometimes, Daniel. Mostly, good. Couldn't hate you. You are my partner."_

"_But those things you just said. Don't you even care what effect they're going to have when people read them?"_

"_People will believe what they believe."_

"_You said those things about _me_, Rorschach. You believe those things about _me_."_

"_Didn't take your background into account. Will try to be more careful in the future." Rorschach shrugged away, as though that was the answer to everything. At least Nite Owl realized it was as close to an apology as he was going to get._

"_I'll check the drop point to see where you want to meet, tomorrow," he sighed. His partner walked away silently._

It had taken Nite Owl half the walk home to realize that Rorschach had called him Daniel.

He ran his finger over the birth certificate. He didn't think back on the dark parts of their early days as much as he thought about the glory of the busts, and the camaraderie they shared. That meant he hadn't seen the changes his partner had gone through. From hating Jews, and Daniel knew he still wasn't exactly their biggest fan, to being willing to wear a Jewish name because he shared it with his partner. It was tacit forgiveness, if nothing else. In truth it was much, much more.

Author's Note: This is my first real attempt at Rorschach going on a rampage. I don't know enough about politics and conspiracy theories in the late 60's to write on them with much authority. Not nearly as much authority as Rorschach has, anyway. But I ranted and hit a couple points that I think Mr. Extreme Right Wing would resent. Anyway, it's all just a vehicle for plot. Forgive me my weakness.


End file.
